“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase. Just take the first step.”
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I recently came across a statement by author and performance coach Jack Canfield where he expanded on Dr.King’s quote:

“Think of a car driving through the night. The headlights only go a hundred to two hundred feet forward, and you can make it all the way from California to New York driving through the dark, because all you have to see is the next two hundred feet. And that’s how life tends to unfold before us.”

In 2011 my wife and I decided we were going to adventure our way through northern Thailand to find and attend one of the most elusive cultural festivals in the world: Yi Peng. If you’ve ever seen a travel guide or sales brochure with the picture of a night sky full of floating lanterns, that is Yi Peng. Like all great cultural festivals, Yi Peng has suffered commercialism and cheap tourist knock-offs of the celebration can be found all over Southeast Asia. But there is still only one authentic Lanna Yi Peng festival and it can be found in Chiang Mai, Thailand on the night of the first full moon of the second month (‘Yi Peng’) in the Lanna calendar (November in the western calendar). And for anyone with the patience and willingness to roam through a city that doesn’t speak English, following strangers who look at your guide book photo and point toward a barren dirt mound on the outskirts of town, Yi Peng is waiting for you.

Jack Canfield’s visual of a car driving in the dark is powerful because we’ve all had that experience. We were all afraid of night driving when we first started driving, and we all see it as second nature over time. That journey in 2011 was one of the most rewarding drives in the dark I’ve ever taken. Like Dr. King notes, no great achievement is easily visible from the starting point. Sometimes we have to trust that the next step will become visible only after we take the first step. That first step into the unknown, that blackness just beyond the headlights, is always the hardest.

When you get to Yi Peng, you will see hundreds of strangers gather on the mount with you. The sun sets and darkness collapses around you. Then one by one, small candles ignite and large paper lanterns are handed through the crowd. Families gather together to unfold their lanterns and light the candles that hang at the bottom. They speak their prayers and wishes for a good year out loud and believe they are filling the lantern with the same. And as the candle glows brighter and the hot air fills the lantern, everyone releases their hopes into the sky. And for a while, there is no more darkness. The lights of a thousand dreams blanket the hill and fend off the darkness. As the lanterns float higher and get caught in strong breezes, they are swiftly carried away together to higher altitudes and faraway places. The light fades away and the darkness returns.

What Yi Peng taught me was that we do not need to find lights in the dark before we move forward. Instead, we need to be the lights in the dark that carry our dreams higher.

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditlinkedinmail

At my college graduation, our keynote speaker was expected to speak for over 90 minutes! The graduation was outside in late May and the 800 graduating students were in full military dress uniform: heavy wool jackets with high collars, long wool trousers, starched shirts and shirt garters. If you don’t know what a shirt garter is, consider yourself lucky. It is a piece of elastic that connects your uniform shirt to your socks and must have been invented by a Nazi party fashionista.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to pay attention to some round-bellied politician pontificating for over an hour in the heat, so I decided to take a Nintendo Gameboy to graduation with me. Since there is nowhere to carry a Gameboy in dress uniform, I built a neck strap out of shoelaces and paperclips to carry it. Not very pretty, but it worked. And when the speaker got up to give his keynote, I popped open Yoshi World and went to a happier place for a while. If you’ve ever played Yoshi World, you know it’s a terrible game. But it was better than my reality right then and there.

By all measures, video games have ruled the entertainment world for the last 20 years.

  • In 2009, Black Ops grossed 300% more than Toy Story 3
  • In 2010, Avatar and Modern Warfare 2 shared the same opening week and Modern Warfare grossed 200% more than ticket sales for Avatar
  • In 2012, when the first Avengers move came out, the sequel to Black Ops outsold the blockbuster by $403m

 But why? Why are these games so popular, and more importantly, how can we learn from their success?

The answers can be found in 1988.

The top 2 video games in 1988 belonged to one system – Nintendo. Nintendo dominated the market and its highest selling games were sequels of previous hit games: Megaman 2 and Super Mario Bros. 3. Emerging companies like Sega and Namco were trying hard to break into Nintendo’s market. They created copycats of popular Nintendo games, merged with video game producers that previously partnered with Nintendo, and otherwise worked to block existing partners from reaching Nintendo. That was the way the world worked: copy the success of others, starve the competition, compete for a limited share.

Nintendo saw the hostility of the market and decided to explore a new idea; a new game that would break every rule in the video game world. At the time, it was believed that games had to be linear – built on a set storyline where memorized patterns and repetitive practice would allow everyone to beat the game. Anyone who has played Mario Bros., Tomb Raider or Metal Gear Solid knows what linear game-play feels like. Linear games were the rage and video-game publishers wanted to be in the game, so they did whatever it took to be players.

Amid all the infighting and conflict, Nintendo released their special project – the Legend of Zelda. Zelda was the first non-linear game ever produced and to this day is considered by gaming experts to be “The greatest, most influential game of all time.”

Zelda allowed players to explore an open world. The play was non-linear, meaning every individual player had a different experience. It was the first game where players could choose how to equip their character, save their progress, and complete side-quests in addition to the primary story. This variety allowed infinite options for gamers Every time you played the experience was unique. Where other games forced you to follow a set path, Zelda allowed you to write your own story. The legend was your own.

Video games are a powerful lens from which to consider life. Many people see life as a linear game; a predictable series of events that must be completed in a certain order before you can move to the next level. And even though we know the pattern and have seen others complete the story, we are not compelled to pay attention. So instead, we turn to video games. We turn to a non-linear world where anything is possible. But there is a secret out there that nobody talks about – a game cheat that very few realize and even fewer use: Our lives can be non-linear. We can be anything we want to be. We can build our own legend.

The world we live in today is not much different from that of 1988. Businesses are copying one another and mergers outnumber innovations, fighting for a limited share. We see new examples every day: Snapchat stories become Instragram stories; Instragram Live becomes Facebook Live; Uber begets Lyft begets Gett, Juno, and a host of other rideshare apps. The game is linear – predictable, repetitive and boring. The world needs people who are willing to change the game.

I hope I don’t disappointment anyone when I say, “video games can teach us.” They teach us determination, focus, commitment. They teach us how to struggle with frustration, how to collaborate with teammates, how to persevere and overcome. Parents, I encourage you to sit next your resident gamer and see how they rise to the challenge in a non-linear virtual world. See the confidence, intelligence and problem solving skills you instilled in them come alive on the screen. You will be awe-struck if you let yourself watch. The minds that can master these games are the minds that can change our world.

You men and women are a living legacy for your families. You represent a generation of college-bound students with the opportunity to shape history. University life, like all of life, can be linear or non-linear. You can do what others have done before you and compete for a limited share, or you can opt for a different adventure, challenge yourself, and create something incredible.

We live in an open world; a world where you can choose your equipment, save your progress, find allies and fight evil. Side-quests are everywhere and boss battles lie ahead. You deserve more than simple patterns and bonus lives. Recognize the infinite possibilities that lie before you. Don’t jump from goomba to goomba, hoping for fireballs, super mushrooms or invincibility stars. Instead, explore your world, discover your potential, and build your legend.

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditlinkedinmail

 

We all have a breaking point. We don’t like to admit it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. While common conventions are that breaking means we are weak, stupid or lazy, I’d offer instead that breaking is what allows us to shed what was and build what will be. Without breaking points, snakes would be trapped in skin too small, butterflies would wither inside cocoons, and new trees would starve in shadows on the forest floor.

I was broken this week and I am thankful for it. A confluence of illness within my household left me serving as nurse, chauffeur, and janitor for my wife and son as we visited urgent care, primary care, and the All Children’s hospital over the last seven days. My son developed pneumonia after a particularly severe allergy season. His pneumonia resulted in matching sinus and ear infections over the course of his treatment – compounding his required medications and his own discomfort. My pregnant wife, having just re-discovered morning sickness in her second trimester, picked up her own upper respiratory bug along the way and found herself undernourished and painfully congested. For seven days my family didn’t sleep, barely ate, and sought what comfort they could in the light of a TV that droned endlessly in the background. I prayed I would stay healthy long enough to get one of the two of them back to normal.

We live in Florida and are a proud sailing family. Our area, Tampa Bay, is consistently recognized in the top 3 places to sail in the United States. In 2015 I took a 7 day advanced sailing course. Expecting a cushy summer vacation, my trip was rocked by 5 days of uncharacteristically blustery, cold rain storms and rough water. Any hope of rest and relaxation was gone by dawn of the third day when I dressed in the same cold, wet rain-gear from the previous two days to embark on another day of high winds and cold spray. For seven days I didn’t sleep, barely ate, and sought what comfort I could on the high-side of the boat where the seasickness was minimized by fresh breeze. I was broken.

I recalled that boat trip in 2015 while holding my son, shivering in his 103 degree fever, sideways in front of an x-ray machine at Johns Hopkins All Children’s hospital on the 5th day of his sickness. I found a certain peace when I realized that this bout of illness, like that terrible wind and rain in 2015, would pass. All storms pass.

During a storm, things break – ask any sailor and they will agree. But rather than focus on what breaks, the defining mark of a seaman is what they choose to do when the storm ends. Some are fearful of the water for the rest of their lives. They stay in their slip when the wind is up and opt for an engine over a sail when they see whitecaps on the waves. But the courageous few, those who travel across oceans in personal sailboats through squalls and seas as tall as buildings – they experience life unbridled. Rather than fold their sails and return to the dock, they pick up where they left off when the storm hit. Nothing keeps them from their destination.

Everybody has a breaking point. The question is what will you do when you are broken and tired after the storms pass?

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditlinkedinmail

 

I was a covert intelligence officer for the US Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) living and operating under cover for nearly a decade. SPOILER ALERT – spying is not like you see in the movies. Yes, we get code names. Yes, we travel around the world on someone else’s dime. No, we do not drive nice cars. No, we do not get cutting-edge tech that fits inside a watch. But the most important thing to understand about spies is this – we are alone and we hate it.

In 2011 I was called to serve in a countersurveillance operation in a large metropolitan city in Asia. I was briefed only on the details I needed to know and given two pictures – one of the foreign agent and one of a fellow CIA officer traveling to meet the agent. My objective was to blend in with the crowd and keep a watchful eye from a distance for anyone taking a suspicious interest in the agent meeting.

Another difference from the movies is that spying is not glamorous. We do not wear bespoke suits and drink martinis while rubbing elbows with social elites. Spies are more like drug dealers, digging around in dark, dirty places selling treason to bad people. By virtue of the people we do business with, security is the top priority during operations. A spy that gets caught is an international incident. A spy that gets away lives to spy another day.

I tracked my targets on foot as they travelled through public venues engaged in hushed espionage. After nearly two hours, the two parted ways and I continued my look out to make sure neither was followed in their departure. Success – my mission was complete and I could start my own trip back home.

On that trip home I was struck by an urgent idea; I needed to leave CIA. Spies do not live in the real world. We operate in alias names, operate in cities where we do not live, and befriend people we do not like. Because of this parallel existence, spies only do what has to be done to maintain security rather than take risks to pursue great achievements. There are of course exceptions to the rule; the few outstanding officers who are selfless and uniquely dedicated in service to their country. But as with any other workplace, the few are not the norm.

I left CIA because I believed that ambition and passion would lead to a better life while security and secrecy would end only in loneliness. I believed that I needed genuine relationships to shape me into the person I was meant to be. Complacency is a slow infection – it robs us of creativity, passion and purpose and convinces us that we cannot be who we want to be; cannot do what we want to do; and cannot achieve what we want to achieve.

Just like popular movies glorify the life of spies, popular culture glorifies the life of those who ‘fit in.’ Both are works of fiction. Many of us live like spies, choosing to conceal our identity in order to blend in with the world around us. Rather than commit ourselves to great achievement, we instead do only what we must to maintain a sense of security while surrounded by people we do not like, engaged in work that does not challenge us. We justify our actions by calling them ‘responsible decisions,’ or ‘social obligations,’ or ‘necessary steps’. In the end, however – just like so many spies – we feel alone and we hate it.

Me.Now. invites all people living like spies to realize the possibilities of a deliberate life; to write a story for ourselves. Complacency is a perpetual foe that seeks to divide rather than unite. Like a spy, we are only alone for as long as we choose to stay in hiding. Once we choose to give up our cover and step into reality, we can find a community that enables us to achieve great things and a better future.    

Facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditlinkedinmail